


Heart of a Rebel

by HixyStix, sempaiko



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Always-a-Rebel Kallus, Kallus has a type and its lasat, Kallus lied, Like A Lot A Lot, M/M, Triple Agent Kallus, dirty and dark, discussion of dub-con, endgame kalluzeb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29584677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempaiko/pseuds/sempaiko
Summary: Kallus lied to everyone.  He’s always had the heart of a rebel – but a radical one.  Ever since entering the Academy, he’s been serving deep undercover as an operative for Saw Gerrera.  Now spying on the Alliance instead of the Empire, he’s not so sure of himself anymore.Zeb is distraught when his lover is arrested for spying and even more so when he discovers Kallus is not who he thought he was.  He has decisions to make – and not the easy kind.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus/Unidentified Lasat Mercenary
Comments: 74
Kudos: 54
Collections: Kalluzeb Mini-Bang 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to sempaiko for the initial idea and hours of brainstorming and the amazing art(!!!), nefariosity for betaing, and a huge thank you to chocolatemudkip for letting me include the Lazy Lekku and Honey.

> _The battle for Onderon was long over, a Rebel victory though Imperial propagandists would later spin it otherwise._
> 
> _The rebels and mercenaries of Saw Gerrera’s group moved through the smoke and flame, finishing off any Imperial unlucky enough to have survived._
> 
> _A lasat, tall and tan, boldly striped and heavily armored, approached Alexsandr Kallus where he lay, bloodied and bruised._
> 
> _“Good job,” he said, offering Kallus a hand up. “You really outdid yourself this time.”_
> 
> _Kallus smirked, pleased with himself. He looked around. “Casualties?”_
> 
> _“Only a few of Gerrera’s diehards,” the mercenary said. “And all of your men.”_
> 
> _“Everyone except me.”_
> 
> _“Except you.” The merc studied Kallus with a leer._
> 
> _“I’ll never know why you let me live,” Kallus said, faking a very genuine-sounding confusion._
> 
> _The merc laughed. “You’re a right piece of work. C’mere.” He grabbed Kallus’s cuirass and pulled the man in for a kiss. It wasn’t gentle or affectionate; it was hard and dirty and made Kallus moan into the merc’s mouth._
> 
> _Kallus had never been so turned on, between the heat of battle, the elation of success, and the sating of his peculiar bloodlust. He glanced at his chrono. “We have time.”_
> 
> _The merc looked around and then, still gripping his cuirass, dragged Kallus off to the side of the battlefield, to a building that was little more than rubble._
> 
> _There, they found a modicum of privacy and used it. The merc bent Kallus over the remains of a wall, shredded the back of his tunic and yanked his pants down._
> 
> _It was quick and filthy and perverse, being kriffed on the edge of a battlefield, but Kallus gripped the wall tightly and held on as the merc pounded into him, paying no attention to Kallus’s own aching dick or the way his knees hit the wall every punishing stroke._
> 
> _Not that it mattered; Kallus came untouched from the rough treatment. He’d be bruised and cut and sore after, but the injuries would only bolster his story: that he had been injured early in the battle and somehow was overlooked by Gerrera’s men and survived._
> 
> _The merc grunted, driving his oh-so-wonderful, oh-so-alien cock into Kallus one last time. Come filled Kallus, driving him deeper into pleasure, dribbling from him as the lasat pulled out._
> 
> _“Kriff, Kyrr!” Kallus hissed._
> 
> _The merc grabbed Kallus by the hair and yanked him back up. “You love it,” he said._
> 
> _“Dank ferrik, I do,” Kallus agreed. “But you know what happens next.”_
> 
> _“Time to make this look convincing.”_
> 
> _Kallus hiked up his pants and returned to his spot on the battlefield. He stood there for a second, bracing himself, and gave Kyrr a nod._
> 
> _The merc fired._

Kallus’s eyes slammed open and he brought a hand up to rub his face. Zeb’s cabin – _their_ cabin – on the _Ghost_ was lit only by the dim light of the door controls and he could barely make out the shape of Zeb asleep next to him.

He could hear him, though, breathing deeply and easily in a way Kallus never would. It was a calming sound, one Kallus had gotten used to over the past months. Usually it lulled Kallus to sleep, but at that moment, Kallus was wide awake.

He hadn’t dreamed of Onderon in a while. He hadn’t dreamed of Kyrreh in a while. 

Not since he started sleeping with Zeb, anyway.

Thinking back to that battlefield, Kallus’s stomach churned. At one point, he’d needed that. He’d needed the violence and pain to feel anything at all, but then Zeb had shown him fondness and consideration and what it was like to _belong_ and Kallus had weakened in the face of such care.

Kallus rolled out of the bed, pulled on shoes, and stumbled through the _Ghost_ , needing fresh air. He needed to _think_ before the crisis of conscience hit him again. He had a mission, a mission he’d been faithfully seeing out since he was sixteen, and he couldn’t let it crumble simply because of Zeb’s soft hands.

It’d been nineteen long years of working hard for the Empire, delicately balancing the fervor he needed to show to advance with the restraint to allow the rebels – all of them, not just Saw’s – to have some victories. Of passing information back to the Partisans so that Saw could strike calculated blows at the Empire.

And now, having lost his Imperial position due to egotistical overreach, passing information on the nascent Alliance to Saw.

Kallus had known he might be caught someday. He’d prepared himself for torture such as Thrawn put him through. He’d prepared himself for questionings such as the Alliance gave him.

He hadn’t prepared himself for Garazeb Orrelios.

It would be stupid to deny Kallus had a type – and that type was large, furry, and alien – but Zeb didn’t fit the mold. Zeb wasn’t harsh. Zeb wasn’t ruthless. Zeb was an honorable warrior. Zeb wasn’t any of the things Kallus thought he needed in a lover.

He’d been oh so wrong.

Kallus shivered as he stepped down the ramp of the _Ghost_ , not merely because of the muggy-yet-cool early morning air.

Yavin IV was quiet, the sounds of the jungle undisturbed by Rebel activities.

Well, almost. A whine in the sky caught Kallus’s attention and he watched as a _Zeta_ -class shuttle sat down across the tarmac.

The landing hour wasn’t that odd – ships came in at all times of Yavin IV’s day – but the fact that the ship had a small receiving crowd was. Usually mechanics didn’t get to ships that quickly unless there was a compelling reason. And a compelling reason for them was a compelling reason for Kallus to be nosy.

He made his way across the landing field quietly, realizing with a start that the first person off the ship was his Captain Cassian Andor, and waiting for them were more of their mutual Intelligence colleagues. Cassian was followed by four strangers and his ever-present companion, K-2SO.

Except for being in sleep clothes, Kallus fit right in to the small group. Cassian greeted him with a nod, otherwise paying him no attention. The other Intelligence operatives crowded around Cassian and Kallus started to join them when someone quietly said his name.

Not ‘Alexsandr Kallus’, the name he’d lived under for most of his life, but his birth name.

Kallus’s gaze shot back quickly, landing on the woman Cassian brought.

Oh _kriff_. It was Jyn blasted Erso. He hadn’t seen her in five years, since Saw pushed her out of the Partisans.

Pieces began slotting into place. Before Kallus had last gone off-shift, Cassian had been working on a prison extraction for an informant named Hallik. Kicking himself for not probing more at the time – he’d been eager to get out of the temple and back to the _Ghost_ to see Zeb, who’d just returned from a mission – he realized the informant had been Jyn.

She was a mess, Kallus noted. Tear tracks dried on her cheeks and anger flashed in her eyes. Under normal circumstances, he might have ignored her, but he couldn’t let her jeopardize his mission any more than she just had.

“Erso,” he hissed, stepping forward quickly and pulling her a few steps away from the others. Even though it was too late, he fussed at her. “You can’t identify me, I’m working.”

She glared at him fiercely. “How would I know? I hadn’t seen anyone from Saw’s group since I was _sixteen_.”

“You ‘hadn’t’?” Kallus frowned. “You’ve seen Saw again, haven’t you?”

Jyn wrenched her arm away. “I just watched my father murdered. You can get someone else to catch you up on Saw.”

Kallus glared right back.

“Kallus?”

Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder and Kallus stiffened.

“You know Jyn?”

“I pursued her in my ISB days, when she was a Partisan,” Kallus lied smoothly. “It’s been years since we had any interactions.”

He paused, in case Jyn wanted to play along and help him cover, but she just stood there, raging silently.

The quiet seemed to be answer enough for Cassian. He nodded.

“You’ve been to Jedha,” Kallus said, wagering that his guess about Saw was correct. “Did you see Gerrera?”

“We saw him,” Cassian said. “But Jedha was attacked and Gerrera is dead now.”

Kallus took an involuntary step back. “Gerrera? Dead?”

If Saw was dead…

Then who would Kallus report to? Did the Partisans even still exist? Who was in charge?

What did that mean for Kallus’s mission?

Noticing Cassian’s slight frown, Kallus straightened and put the mask on again. “I suppose an extremist like Gerrera _would_ be more likely to die in action.”

“It wasn’t in ‘action’,” spat Jyn. “The Empire has–”

“Jyn!” snapped Cassian. He looked back at Kallus. “It’s classified until I talk to Draven.”

Another kriff. This sounded like something Kallus needed to know, but he also needed to process what to do with the information about Saw.

And he needed to do damage control from Jyn saying his real name. Luckily, Cassian didn’t seem to have overheard. He was hard to read at the best of times, but he wasn’t giving Kallus any undue attention, which seemed promising.

Kallus nodded stepping back. “How can I help?” he asked.

Cassian nodded towards two of the strangers, a large heavily armed man and a blind man who was dressed like a Guardian of the Whills. Obviously they’d come from Jedha. Refugees from whatever sort of attack there was? “Get these two fed and comfortable for me. I’m taking Jyn and Bodhi to Draven.”

“Of course,” Kallus said. He turned to the two men. “If you’ll follow me?”

“What did you say your name was?” the blind one asked, voice light and almost amused. He seemed to navigate just as well on his own as Kanan had, though he had a staff to help him.

Something told him this man _had_ heard Jyn. Kallus didn’t slow down. “I didn’t. It’s Kallus.”

The man hummed an agreeable note. “I’m sure.”

Kallus had to suppress the instinct to tense up and speak sharply. He led the men to the mess hall, where there was always some sort of food out. This early, the food that was appropriate for humans were fruit, breads, sliced meats, and cheeses. “Do you need any help getting food?”

The big man shook his head. “No,” he said gruffly. “He doesn’t.”

Kallus took a step back and let them pick out what they wanted. “What happened at Jedha?” he asked after a moment.

“Your Captain Andor said that was classified,” the monk said, almost admonishing.

When he followed it up by saying Kallus’s real last name, Kallus _did_ stiffen. “My name is Kallus,” he reiterated. “Erso knew me when I was Imperial and using an alias for an operation. Much as she has for the last few years.”

The men stared at him silently and Kallus’s stomach dropped. Somehow they knew he was lying.

Kallus couldn’t believe he was standing there glaring at a blind man, but there he was. He grumpily thought he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. “Stay here until someone calls for you,” he said. “I have to go.”

“Fine,” said the larger man. “We’ll wait.”

With a curt nod, Kallus swiftly walked back to the _Ghost_ , thinking as he went. He was in danger, he knew. Jyn could blow his cover at any time. If Cassian or K-2 overheard Jyn’s use of his name as the monk obviously had, he was in trouble.

Kallus gave serious thought to stealing the _Phantom_ while Zeb, Hera, and Rex slept and preemptively fleeing.

That would do nothing but seal his guilt, however. And, more importantly, where did he have to go if Saw Gerrera was dead? Were the Partisans even still in existence? Kyrreh was out there, he knew, living a rough life as a freelance mercenary, so that was a possibility, but did Kallus _want_ to see Kyrreh again?

Not really. Not after Zeb. 

He could wake Zeb and ask to run away with him, but the lasat would never leave Hera, not while she was pregnant nor after the child was born. Asking would only lead to too many questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.

Kallus slunk back into their shared room, slipped off his shoes, and crawled back into bed. Zeb obligingly wrapped an arm around him and held him close.

“You’re cold,” he mumbled.

“I went for a walk,” Kallus said, fudging the truth. “It’s still cool out.”

“I can tell,” Zeb said. “You get up too early.”

Kallus snorted. “You know you’ll be getting up in a few minutes yourself.”

“Maybe.” Zeb kissed the back of his neck. “Maybe since we’re both awake, we should stay in bed.”

Smiling, Kallus rolled to face Zeb. “And I’m sure sleep is in your plans.”

“Only in the metaphorical sense,” Zeb leered, still half-asleep, the words coming out more sultry than dirty.

Kallus kissed Zeb lightly on his lower lip. “I would be more than amenable to that.”

Zeb grinned, huffing a laugh. “Kal, you’re a piece of work.”

The phrase, used so innocently but so reminiscent of Kallus’s dream, made him stumble for a second. He covered by kissing Zeb again.

The line he was walking was too fine these days, he thought. Something was going to have to give – and soon.

* * *

Zeb climbed up from the nose turret and made his way to the common room. Rex and Hera were already there.

He flopped on the bench seat, rubbing at his forehead where sweat wound its way through his fur. “I wasn’t hallucinating that thing, was I?”

Hera shook her head. “They said the Empire had a ‘planet-killer’ but I didn’t believe it until I saw it hit Scarif.”

“That thing is going to decimate us,” Rex said.

“Do we know if the plans got out?” Zeb asked.

Hera shrugged. “They had them when we were given the order to jump to hyperspace, but I don’t know what ship or if they made it out of the system.”

“Karabast.” Zeb sighed. “We’re kriffed, aren’t we?”

Rex nodded.

Hera frowned. “I’m not counting us out yet,” she insisted. “If those plans made it out, we’ve got a chance to destroy it before the Empire knows they’re in danger.”

“That’s a lot of ‘if’s, Hera,” Zeb said. Leaning back against the seat, he wished, yet again, that Kallus were there. The human had been called away by General Draven not long before the fleet was ordered to launch for Scarif.

They could have used him in the _Phantom II_ , shooting down TIEs, but Zeb really wished for his company right then. When Kallus was around, Zeb felt more secure, more sure of himself and the future. Their love – and Zeb considered it love, even if they hadn’t said it to each other yet – had been hard-won, but it was strong and true. Zeb had no doubts anymore when it came to Kallus.

He sighed. “How long back to Yavin?”

Hera glanced at the chrono on the wall. “Chopper’s in charge of our flight plan, but I asked him to try and get us there in four hours.”

“Might as well settle in, then. Either we’ll get there safely or that thing will find us. Too late to change anything now.” Rex said with a shrug. “Up for some dejarik?”

Zeb grinned. “Up to lose, old man?”

Rex laughed. “Remember who’s older,” he said.

“Yeah, but just look at me,” Zeb teased. “I’m in my prime.”

“Okay, boys, behave,” Hera said, but she was smiling. She slid out from behind the table before she got trapped. “Rex is right. We’ve done everything we can. Relax if you can. There’s no clue what’ll be waiting for us back on Yavin.”

Sobering again, Zeb nodded. “Got it,” he said. “I can beat Rex in my sleep, so we’re good.”

Hera reached out and ruffled the fur on the top of Zeb’s head familiarly. “Don’t kill each other,” she warned before disappearing into her cabin.

Zeb _did_ manage to hold his own against Rex in dejarik, but it was a close thing. Despite Zeb’s teasing, the clone was quite good at strategy games and it was only Zeb’s long-ago Honor Guard training that let him see all the potential moves and paths Rex could take in the game.

Three hours later, Chopper whistled loud enough to be heard through the ship, the signal that they were getting ready to drop out of hyperspace.

As a group, they made their way to the cockpit and Zeb watched as the whorls and swirls of hyperspace resolved into the planet Yavin and all its moons. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that a good chunk of the fleet had beat them there.

Maybe someone had brought the plans for that _thing_ back with them.

Hera checked in with the space traffic controller, letting them know the _Ghost_ was coming in for a landing.

“ _Ghost,_ ” came the reply, “be advised your crew has been requested by the Council. Wait on your ship for escorts.”

Zeb frowned. The last time they’d received similar instructions had been when they first arrived after Atollon.

He wasn’t the only one bothered. “That’s odd,” Hera said. “Wonder what they want?”

“There’s no telling,” Rex said, leaning forward in his seat and studying the moon as they flew closer.

As the _Ghost_ sat down in its regular spot, Zeb was alarmed to see a small group of Alliance military police waiting for them. That was definitely not normal.

“Come with us,” was all they were told before being led to the war room at the top of the main Massassi Temple.

Mon Mothma and Jan Dodonna waited for them, both looking weary.

“Did the plans make it?” Hera asked as soon as they entered.

“Not yet,” Dodonna said. He gestured for them to come closer. “We have another problem closer to home, General.”

Hera frowned. “What’s more important than that weapon? You weren’t there, you didn’t see–”

“We’ve seen the recordings,” Senator Mothma interrupted. She paused a moment and then said, “We’ve placed Captain Kallus under arrest.”

Zeb startled. “What? That can’t be right!” he said before he even realized he was speaking.

“I’m afraid it is, Captain Orrelios,” Mon Mothma said. “He was identified by another Rebel as a spy.”

Hera shook her head. “We went through that over a year ago,” she said. “He’s not an Imperial spy. He spied for _us_ , got tortured for _us_ , and managed to escape. He’s been nothing but loyal since.”

“And so we all wished to think,” Mon Mothma said gently.

“He hasn’t been spying for the Empire,” Dodonna said. “He’s been spying for Saw Gerrera, keeping him appraised of all activities and operations the Alliance has undertaken.”

Zeb sputtered. “Ger– Gerrera? That’s impossible!” He couldn’t help but look at General Dodonna as if the man was crazy. “He _hates_ Gerrera. No one’s been more outspoken against Gerrera-style tactics than Kal!”

Dodonna shook his head. “A former Partisan informed us he’s been undercover for Gerrera for years.”

“Where is this person?” Hera asked. “I’d like to hear the accusation myself, seeing as Kallus is part of my crew.”

“Sadly, that won’t be possible,” Mon Mothma said. “They and all their witnesses perished in the action on Scarif.”

Rex crossed his arms. “Then how can we know what they said is true?”

“Because Captain Kallus has confessed,” said General Draven, entering the room, looking even more exhausted than even Mon Mothma or Dodonna.

Zeb’s jaw dropped, but he couldn’t speak. His brain blanked out, Draven’s words the only things tumbling through his mind.

 _Kallus. Confessed. Spying. Kallus! Confessed! Spying!_ they repeated, louder and louder until he wasn’t aware of anything else around him.

A hand on his arm steadied and grounded him. Zeb vaguely heard Hera speaking and the Alliance leaders responding, but their words weren’t making it through to him.

“I want to see him,” Zeb said, interrupting with blatant disregard for the conversation already occurring. “Now.”

“That won’t be possible,” Draven said. “He’s in isolation and it’s only respect for General Syndulla’s rank that is keeping the rest of you from the same.”

Zeb rocked back on his toes. _They_ were under suspicion, too?

“Of course,” Hera said, her small hand pinching more than squeezing Zeb’s arm. “We’ll be glad to answer any questions you have. Everything we’ve done – with the Alliance, with Captain Kallus – has been in good faith, I’m sure you’ll find.”

“I hope so, General,” Mon Mothma said. “I hope we will be apologizing for inconveniencing you very soon.”

Inconvenience? This was more than inconvenience. This was devastation.

Kallus couldn’t be a spy. He must have been coerced. There had to be a _reason_. Something other than what Kallus was accused of.

Zeb’s stomach lurched and he only kept his composure by sheer force of will.

He’d survived Lasan. He’d survived the years after. He’d survived Atollon and Lothal and now Scarif.

He would survive this, too.

The only question was if Kallus would survive it, too.


	2. Chapter 2

The _Ghost_ crew wasn’t completely out from under suspicion, but the arrival of the _Millennium Falcon_ had made Alliance leadership re-prioritize. The subsequent battle and destruction of the Death Star knocked them even further down the list of concerns.

Hera, Zeb, and Rex were sequestered on the _Ghost_ , watching Yavin pack up to leave for good. Leadership had banned them from helping in any way. They weren’t even to know the destination: an astromech with the coordinates would be provided to them just before the final evacuation order.

Fuming, Hera stalked the length of the hold. “We could take passengers. We could take equipment. This is _idiotic_.”

“It is,” Rex agreed. “But we agreed to play their games.”

Zeb slumped against the rear bulkhead, staying quiet. He’d raged and ranted the first two days, trying to get in to see Kallus, but he’d since become disillusioned. Sulking seemed to accomplish just as little and took much less energy out of him.

Hera looked at him. “Zeb, what happened to you? Yesterday you were all upset and today you’re just out of it.”

Zeb shrugged. “What’s the point right now, Hera? They’re not going to change anything until the new base is set up. And until they decide to get back to us, we’re as good as traitors ourselves.”

She stopped in front of him, arms crossed. “You don’t believe Kallus is a traitor.”

“I don’t know,” Zeb said, aware he was moping. “I don’t want to but I wonder. He tricked Thrawn for a long time. He could have been tricking us, too.”

Rex nodded. “He’s right, Hera.”

“I know,” Hera snapped. “I don’t want it to be true, though. I don’t want Kallus to have betrayed any of us, Zeb most of all.”

Zeb sighed and slid down the wall, sitting on the cold durasteel floor. He really wanted to go find some privacy, but his cabin still smelled of Kallus, still had some of Kallus’s things – the few items the Intelligence crews who’d combed over the _Ghost_ had left behind.

No, his cabin wasn’t a friendly spot any more.

“Droids headed our way,” Rex announced.

Zeb looked up and two droids _were_ headed their way: AP-5 and an R4 astromech Zeb didn’t recognize. Beyond them, other ships were closing up and lifting off.

“Guess we have our coordinates,” Hera said. “Hello, AP-5.”

“Hello,” AP-5 replied in that annoyingly stuffy voice Zeb could barely stand. “This is R4-G8. We are to escort you to the new base.”

“Any chance you’ll tell us what it’s called?” Rex asked, closing up the ramp behind them.

“That would go against my orders.”

Above them, Chopper warbled something.

“That was quite rude!” AP-5 protested. “But I shouldn’t expect better from you.”

“Chop, show R4-G8 the cockpit,” Hera said. “Don’t hurt him.”

R4-G8 beeped frantically.

Zeb pulled himself up. “Do you have jets, droid, or do I need to carry you?”

AP-5 answered. “You’ll need to carry him.”

Chopper laughed, waving his manipulators at the new droid.

Zeb picked the astromech up with one arm, ignoring its electronic scream, and bounded up the ladders. He deposited the droid on the main floor and pointed the rest of the way.

Chopper came flying by, waving one manipulator and warbling something angrily. Despite his demeanor, he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation – that they weren’t trusted to know the real location of the new base and R4-G8 was their only way to get there – and he showed the other astromech to the cockpit dataport.

Zeb plopped in the chair behind Hera’s, waiting for the others to catch up.

A week ago, he’d have been sad about leaving Yavin IV. It had – to this point – been good to them. It was where he and Kallus found each other and became more than comrades and friends.

Now, though, it was just the place Kallus managed to deceive them all.

Good riddance.

* * *

It had been nearly ten Standard days since he’d been first taken into custody, judging by the ship’s day/night cycles and mealtimes.

Watching Cassian and his renegade team steal the _Zeta_ shuttle had given Kallus a bad feeling, which only got worse when Draven summoned him just a couple hours later.

His gut had been right. He’d been met with the Alliance military police and a pair of binders. The Rebellion, at least, didn’t use shock binders as Thrawn had, nor did they torture him. Seeing no other option with Gerrera gone, Kallus had confessed to their accusations. 

The Rebels were brutal with their solitary confinement, however. Kallus hadn’t seen a living being since being thrown in his cell. They’d even used droids to transfer him to one of the Fleet ships in an isolation cubicle.

He guessed that meant the Alliance was moving headquarters, but he couldn’t get the droids to confirm anything.

All that changed just a few minutes before, however. Kallus’s cell opened and the military police were there again. They cuffed him and walked him through what was obviously a Mon Cal ship – which one, he wasn’t sure – and to a conference room somewhere near the bridge.

Draven, Mon Mothma, Dodonna, and some of the other leadership sat around a table already. Kallus noted that Hera was not among them. In fact, the closest thing he had to a friend on this Council was Draven himself.

“Alexsandr Kallus,” said Mon Mothma, standing smoothly. She glanced at him dismissively, paying more attention to her notes. “You’ve been accused of spying for Saw Gerrera’s Partisans on both the Empire and the Rebellion for at least the last nineteen years. You’ve confirmed the accusations. We’re here today to decide what to do with you.”

Kallus noted that he was no longer ‘Captain’ Kallus. Nor had Mon Mothma used his real name. Did that mean she didn’t know it or did that mean the Rebellion didn’t care to use it?

Mon Mothma looked around the table. “I think it’s clear we should hold a jury trial. We are no better than the Empire if we punish him without such a trial.”

“Court-martial?” suggested another woman.

Draven cleared his throat. “Kallus’s rank was for Intelligence, not military. He doesn’t fall under the same rules as a Fleet officer might.”

“A jury trial would be a fiasco,” Dodonna said. “We no longer have witnesses and revealing his crimes could shake confidence in the Alliance. The Empire would hear of it and broadcast our inability to catch spies.”

“They didn’t catch him. We did.”

“Eventually,” Mon Mothma agreed. “If not a trial, then what?”

Draven gestured around the table. “This. Make it a Council decision.”

Kallus listened to them argue, gleaning little bits of information as they did so.

It seemed that Cassian had heard Jyn use his real name, that Cassian had told Draven and Jyn had confirmed the story, and that subsequently neither Cassian nor Jyn had returned from Scarif. Some sort of superweapon had threatened the Alliance in the time he’d been imprisoned, but obviously they hadn’t been destroyed.

And, to his horror, the _Ghost_ crew had faced suspicion because of him. They’d been cleared, but…

Kallus had spent much of his time in solitary thinking about Zeb. About the trust Zeb placed in him. About the care and affection Zeb gave him. About how Kallus hadn’t deserved any of it – either as a Partisan or an ex-Imperial. _Nothing_ about him was worthy of Garazeb Orrelios.

So to hear that Zeb had faced questionings and interrogations because of him made Kallus sick.

“Gerrera is dead. The Partisans are weakened. Is he really a danger any more?”

“Yes,” said Draven. “But a useful danger. The things he knows could help us.”

“Help us do what?” Dodonna asked. “We’re not fighting the Partisans.”

“But knowing their strength and bases and intel could help us fight the Empire.”

“He _has_ worked for us for over two years,” another added. “Do we have any proof he ever worked against us in that time?”

“No,” Draven said. “Our proof died with Jedha.”

 _With_ Jedha. That was an interesting phrasing.

“He may not have harmed us in the last two years, but he certainly did plenty of harm as ISB, whether he was working for Gerrera at the time or not.”

Kallus shifted on his feet, wondering if they’d ever be able to make a decision. The Council was notorious for arguing hours on end.

Mon Mothma was finally paying attention to him. “Do you have anything you’d like to say in your defense, Kallus?”

Kallus laughed softly. “For eighteen years, I worked against the Empire from within. Did I help them? Yes, but I also made sure the Rebellion – your little broken cells _and_ Saw’s Partisans – got the information they needed and had miraculous escapes.”

“Miraculous escapes?” Dodonna arched an eyebrow.

“Do you think there was something about the air on Lothal that made me suddenly incompetent against the Spectres?” Kallus asked. “They weren’t _lucky_. They had help.”

“You still admit to assisting in the genocide of Lasan,” Mon Mothma said.

Kallus’s lip curled in distaste at the memory. “Yes, I was caught by surprise by our orders there. But who do you think told the Senate about the use of the T-7s? What they did to organic matter? _That_ was information the Empire didn’t want out, not even to its own Senate.”

“That was you?” she asked dubiously. 

“Who would have suspected young ISB-021?” Kallus said, inclining his head. “I was merely a cog in the machine, not a leader at that time. All my ambition at the time was publicly aimed toward advancement. I had no regard for the Senate or so my superiors thought.”

“Gerrara may be dead but the Partisans are still around. Why don’t we just ship him back to them?”

“Not while he has information for us,” Draven insisted, slapping the table with his open palm.

Kallus spoke up. “I’m happy to tell you anything. We are on the same side, after all.” He ought to _want_ to go back to the Partisans, to be able to live completely honestly, but…

He didn’t. He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay with Zeb, to be exact.

Thinking of his lover made his heart ache. 

Anything they asked of him, he’d give them.

“Are we?” asked Dodonna. “Gerrera always made his position toward us quite clear. We were _not_ allies.”

Mon Mothma looked around the table again. “General Draven, can we entrust him to you for the time being?”

Draven nodded. “Yes, Senator. Just give us a few days.”

Kallus closed his eyes and breathed deep. He’d been Rebel Intelligence. He knew they didn’t torture, but he’d been an Imperial too long not to have the knee-jerk thought of questioning equaling torture.

“That sounds like our best course of action for now.” Mon Mothma stared Kallus down. “If he is truly forthcoming with information, we will have to reevaluate what to do with him.”

Kallus nodded. That was probably the fairest treatment he could expect.

 _We will treat you fairly_ echoed in his mind, Zeb’s voice sure and happy, after seeing his friends land on Bahryn. His promise applied to the Spectres and Phoenix Cell, not the wider Rebellion, but Kallus would soon find out if the rest of the Rebellion was as honorable as Zeb.

He thought they were, but he was also the first spy they’d caught in the year he’d been there. He might not get leniency.

Just as long as they didn’t take it out on the _Ghost_ crew. On Zeb.

* * *

Zeb _loomed_ over the guard, a muscular cathar that still didn’t measure up to a lasat’s bulk and height. “I want to see him,” he demanded for the tenth time.

“You can’t,” the cathar said, also for the tenth time.

Growling under his breath, Zeb tried to think of another way to get into the _Temperance_ ’s brig. Intimidation obviously wasn’t working.

Footsteps approached down the hall, catching Zeb’s attention. His ears swiveled in that direction, followed by the rest of him as soon as he realized he recognized a familiar set of steps.

“Kal!” he said, relieved to see him, even if he was surrounded by guards and General Draven.

Kallus looked equally relieved to see Zeb, but he didn’t say anything.

“Take him on in,” Draven instructed. He eyed Zeb. “What are you doing here, Captain Orrelios?”

“What do you think?” Zeb said. “It’s been a week and a half. I want to talk to him. I _deserve_ some answers.”

“Perhaps you do.” Draven studied him for a minute. “You understand that he’s under constant surveillance? That you cannot be alone with him and your conversations are being monitored?”

Zeb bared his teeth, flashing fang. “Got it,” he bit out. “You’ve certainly monitored me enough already. You ought to know I’m not going to do anything.”

It’d been a long ten days. It took six of those days before Draven could turn his attention to the _Ghost_ crew, and three days of intense questioning before he was finally convinced of their innocence in the matter. Zeb had gone from depressed to angry to resigned back to angry as soon as they’d been cleared.

He wasn’t sure if he was angry at Draven, at Kallus, or at the galaxy in general. It wasn’t _fair_. Wasn’t it time for something good to happen to Garazeb Orrelios and _last_? Not these fleeting tastes of satisfaction that were all he’d had to cling to ever since Lasan.

Karabast, he should have figured Kallus was too good to be true. He’d believed the man’s slow transition from Imperial to Rebel, never imagined Kallus was playing a long game.

Zeb needed to know why. Why spy? Why pick Zeb? Had he been anything but an amusement?

“Let me see him,” Zeb repeated, this time to General Draven.

The general nodded to the cathar. “Let him in. You know the visitation rules. If either of them try to push the boundaries, arrest the captain, too.”

Zeb snarled but held his tongue. Draven was posturing, he knew.

He could put up with posturing, if it meant he could see Kallus.

If it meant he got answers.

Zeb followed the cathar into the hallway of cells, hands clenched and heart pounding.

He stopped outside the one occupied cell, looking in as Kallus was uncuffed. The human sat on his bed as the guards locked him into the cell, looking down at his hands.

They waited in silence for a moment before Kallus looked up, turning those golden eyes on Zeb.

“Hello, Zeb.”


	3. Chapter 3

The sight of Zeb hurt more than Kallus had imagined it would. The pain in Zeb’s eyes, knowing that _he_ was the reason it was there, cut deeper than anything he’d heard or seen to that point.

Kallus let himself be manhandled into his cell. It would have been easy to fight back – fighting back was actually the more instinctual response – but he didn’t want to antagonize the people who had the power to keep Zeb away.

Zeb walked up while he was still in binders, but waited patiently for the guards to leave and Kallus to say something.

Really, it was just a few moments of waiting, but it was enough time for Kallus to have a realization: he was being purely selfish wanting Zeb around. It was blatantly obvious that Zeb hadn’t been doing well, from the tired droop of his shoulders to the crease in his brow. He’d been left wounded by Kallus’s actions.

Kallus knew what happened to the wounded. They either got back up or they got bayoneted.

A choice presented itself. If Kallus was honest with Zeb, if he told Zeb how he felt, then Zeb would probably fight for him. Fight to stay with him, fight for his freedom. It was even within the realm of the possible that Zeb would consider leaving when Kallus was inevitably booted out of the Rebellion.

But all of that would drain the lasat, be a constant wound in his side. Kallus would drag him down and destroy Zeb as surely as the Empire had destroyed Lasan. He would be Zeb’s bayonet.

Alternatively, Kallus could lie. Again. He could put on a face and push Zeb away. It’d hobble Zeb in the short term, but Zeb was resilient. He’d heal. He’d _get back up_ and live a life without Kallus.

Surely one final hurt was better than a draining, sustained injury?

Kallus set his face into an expressionless mask before looking up. “Hello, Zeb,” he said, as coolly as he could manage.

“Kal…” Zeb leaned his head against the doorway, the barrier shield buzzing dangerously close to his fur. “It is true?”

It was time to make the first severing cut. Kallus took a deep breath and did something he hadn’t done in nineteen years: he dropped the Coruscanti accent in favor of his native one. “That’s a loaded question,” he said, the words shaped all wrong in his mouth after so long, “but whatever you’ve heard, Zeb, the answer is probably yes. I’ve been a member of Gerrera’s Partisans since I was quite young.”

Zeb’s eyes widened in shock. “What happened to your voice?” he asked tremulously.

In a desperate attempt not to give in to Zeb’s distress, Kallus narrowed his eyes. “This is the accent I was born with. But I can be from somewhere else if you like.” He modulated his voice and put on a variety of practiced accents. “Corellia? How about Lysatra? Or perhaps Fest? No? Tanaab, then. Oh, I know: what about _Lasan_?”

“Kal!” Zeb’s voice was tight and strained. “What are you doing?”

“You asked for the truth,” Kallus said sharply. “I’m giving it to you.”

* * *

Zeb wanted to hear the truth, but he’d been hoping for a different truth. He’d wanted to hear that it was all a mistake somehow, that Zeb could help Kallus prove his innocence.

Or even just to find out that he was repentant.

Hearing Kallus mimic Zeb’s own accent so casually and so cruelly stung. The Kallus Zeb _thought_ he knew would never have done something like that.

Obviously, though, Zeb didn’t know Kallus at all.

“Is Alexsandr Kallus even your real name?” he asked, pretty karking sure he didn’t want to know the answer.

Kallus shrugged. “It is now. Much like Kanan, I’ve lived under it longer than I lived under my birth name.”

“Which was…?”

“Unimportant.” The look Kallus gave Zeb was harsh and cold and warned him away from pressing further.

Zeb wasn’t going to be warned away, however. “Who are you, then, if you’re not Alexsandr Kallus and you’re not from Coruscant? Where are you really from?”

Kallus paused for a moment and Zeb wondered if he was coming up with another lie.

“Onderon,” he said. “My parents fought with Gerrera in the civil war. When they died, I simply picked up where they left off, at least until Gerrera tasked me with becoming an informant.”

Zeb shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the new information. “So when you told me about Onderon on Bahryn, you were making it up,” he said, unable to keep the crushing disappointment from his voice.

“Making it up? No, not for the most part. I really did lead a group of men to ‘pacify’ the populace. A lasat mercenary really did kill them all.” Kallus looked away. “But he let me live because I’d been the one who arranged for Gerrera’s ambush. We worked together.”

“Worked together? What does that mean?” It was another question Zeb didn’t really _want_ the answer to, but he still needed to know.

“Don’t ask me that, Zeb,” Kallus said, an edge in his voice. “I’ll tell you most everything, but there are some things that I won’t.”

“And that’s something you won’t.” Zeb thought he could translate that – Kallus’s relationship with the other lasat had been more than simply comrades-in-arms.

Which would explain a lot, really. Why Kallus hadn’t been surprised by lasat anatomy compared to a human’s. How he’d ‘instinctively’ known Zeb’s most erogenous zones. He’d played it off well, telling Zeb he’d studied up on the Holonet, but if he’d slept with a lasat before…

Well, it made a horrible amount of sense.

Zeb looked away, feeling betrayed on a whole new level.

* * *

It was obvious that Kallus had said too much. He could tell Zeb wasn’t just hurting; he was in excruciating pain from Kallus’s roundabout admission.

He’d known Zeb would figure it out. Zeb was _smart_ , even if people often discounted him. 

But that had been the point, right? Needle Zeb until he saw no reason to stay. What better way to push him away than by bringing up a past lover? Than by bringing up lies?

“And Lasan?” Zeb asked. “Did you really get your bo-rifle from the _Boosahn Keeraw_? Did you mean what you said on Bahryn, that it wasn’t meant to be a genocide?”

“‘Massacre’ is what I called it, I think,” he said, just another slight twist of the knife in Zeb’s gut. Kallus closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back to Lasan. A purple Honor Guardsman danced before him, already weak from fighting all day while Kallus was fresh and strong. It hadn’t taken Kallus long to bring him down. He’d spoken to the Guardsman in Lasana as he held his staff, ready to make the kill, and thought that might have been what prompted the lasat’s response. “I received my bo-rifle legitimately through the _Boosahn Keeraw_. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Kallus was telling the truth – since landing on Bahryn, he hadn’t lied to Zeb about anything concerning Lasan because he knew how deeply the topic impacted Zeb– but it was obvious Zeb didn’t know if he could be trusted.

“I didn’t know it was going to happen until it was too late,” Kallus admitted, eyes downcast. His failure had always weighed heavily on him. “By the time they told me where we were headed and why, I was too deeply ensconced to get a warning out. If I could have warned you, I would have.”

“Warned me,” Zeb said dubiously. “You mean warn Gerrera.”

Kallus sighed. “Yes, that too. But you were Honor Guard Captain, entrusted with your planet’s defense. Even though I only knew your rank and not your name, you would have been the logical person to get the information to.”

Zeb continued to stare off in the distance. Kallus saw his throat work as he formulated his next question. “And Gerrera’s mercenary… what did he think of you fighting on Lasan?”

The tone of Zeb’s voice was bitter, jealous – very unlike him. Kallus wanted to apologize for his past associations, but there really wasn’t any legitimate apology to be made. Even if he did regret his past with Kyrreh, Kallus couldn’t _change_ that past.

“That was when Kyrreh left the Partisans,” Kallus said, letting shame for Lasan tinge his voice. “Seemed to think Saw and I could have done more.”

Zeb startled, looked back at Kallus. “His name was Kyrreh?”

Kallus frowned. “Did you know him?”

“No,” Zeb said, sounding disgusted. “But Kyrreh means ‘mercy’. Ironic, I suppose, for a lasat who was willing to murder helpless enemies.”

Well, in for a decicred, in for a full credit. Kallus took a deep breath and spoke again – in Lasana this time. “I knew that. He taught me the language.”

Zeb staggered back a step. “All this time, you’ve known Lasana?” he asked, also in Lasana. “You’ve been letting me teach it to you!”

“Hey!” called a guard from down the hall. “Use Basic!”

Zeb snarled in the guard’s direction, not dropping the furor when he looked back at Kallus. In Basic, he repeated himself. “I’ve been _teaching_ you Lasana! I thought you were just good with languages!”

“I am,” Kallus confirmed. “I’m even better when I already know the language in question.”

“So what are you going to tell me next?” Zeb asked. “You’ve been secretly seeing this Kyrreh all this time? Sleeping with him, too?”

It was Kallus’s turn to look away, ashamed. “After he left Saw’s employ, I only saw Kyrreh once. He was the one who picked me up off Bahryn.”

“Bah– Bahryn.” Zeb stared at the ceiling, biting his lower lip. “Of course. It had to be Bahryn.”

“It was planned, sort of,” Kallus admitted. “I was supposed to ‘chase a Rebel’ out an escape hatch only to be picked up by Kyrreh and allow us the chance to reconcile after so long. I didn’t plan on _actually_ chasing you, but I couldn’t justify two escape pods jettisoning.”

“So when you said you’d take your chances with the Empire, you really meant you’d wait for your lover to pick you up.” Zeb spoke with palpable distaste.

“Was he my lover if it was the first time in years?” Kallus asked, aware the question was probably inappropriate.

It hadn’t been an easy reunion. Kyrreh had been just as rough as he’d always been, but something in Kallus had already been changed by that single night with Zeb. Even though the sex _had_ warmed Kallus back up, he’d been unable to get off from the rough treatment he’d believed was necessary.

He’d also given Kyrreh his bo-rifle, something the merc had made noise about after Lasan. Zeb had convinced Kallus that deep down, he didn’t deserve the weapon, even if he _had_ won it through the _Boosahn Keeraw_.

Kallus wondered if he’d ever see his bo-rifle again. He certainly wouldn’t ever be worthy of it, but neither was Kyrreh. He ought to see that Zeb got the weapon.

If the Alliance let him out alive, that was.

* * *

Zeb didn’t want to hear any more about Kyrreh. He’d accepted that Kallus had lovers before him – they were both adults, that was the way of it – but a dishonorable lasat? One Zeb had long believed to have traumatized Kallus?

That was too much.

“So you’re not Alexsandr Kallus and never have been,” Zeb said. “And you’ve been spying on us this whole time for a man you openly despised.”

“That would sum it up,” Kallus said.

Zeb was getting desperate. Kallus was giving him answers, but Zeb wanted more. He wanted a _reaction_ , not this calm and cool stranger sitting before him.

He rested his head on the doorway again. “Was any of it actually real?”

“Was any of what?”

Zeb glared half-heartedly. “You know. Us.”

Kallus swallowed, his throat visibly working. Refusing to meet Zeb’s eyes, he said, “You were.”

Suddenly enraged, Zeb banged his fist on the wall. “ _I_ was? **_I_** was? Kriffing hells, Kal, of course I was. I loved you! I trusted you! I gave you everything! And here you are, telling me that none of it was real from your end.” He let his claws rake down the durasteel until his hand dropped to his side. “You’ve lived so many lies for so long, you couldn’t give me one last lie?”

A heavy silence hung in the air for a few moments, so thick Zeb thought he might be able to tear it away with his claws.

“Loved?” Kallus asked softly. “Past tense?”

Zeb heard the slightest of trembles in his voice, heard the earnestness. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Kal, I just don’t know. If you showed me the least bit of remorse, if you even acted like you wanted to stay…”

Kallus sat up, leaning his head back against the wall. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears and he chewed on his lip like he was fighting with himself.

“I don’t know who you are,” Zeb pressed on. “I thought I did. I loved the man you showed to me. But who are you, Kal? Are you Imperial? Are you a Partisan? Or are you the man who risked everything to help the Rebellion? Who gave so much of himself to help me? _Who are you_?”

* * *

That was the one question Kallus couldn’t answer. He felt a single tear slid down his cheek, disappearing into his facial hair. “Zeb–”

“What?”

He shouldn’t answer. He should keep pushing Zeb away.

But the ache in his chest made it hard for Kallus to breathe. The only way to alleviate that was more honesty. He blinked a few times and wiped at his eyes. “I don’t know, Zeb.”

Zeb slumped a little. “You don’t know what?” he prompted.

“I don’t know who I am,” Kallus admitted. It was probably the most honest thing he’d said in nearly twenty years. “I knew who I was as a child, but I’m not a child any more. I knew who I was as ISB-021, but I’m not him either. Alexsandr Kallus was only ever supposed to be a role to play, but with you…”

Zeb waited as Kallus trailed off.

He took a deep breath. “I was changing, Zeb. You were showing me the sort of man I could be if I only wanted. From the moment you first took my hand on Bahryn, I’ve been changing. I’m not a whole-hearted Partisan any more. I’m not Imperial, that’s for sure. I don’t know if I was ever a good Rebel, but I wanted to be a good man, a good lover, _for you_.”

Kallus forced himself to breathe through the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. It wasn’t easy, but he found his voice again.

“I _wanted_ to be Alexsandr. I _wanted_ to be your Kal. I thought I could carry out my mission while still keeping you a part of my life.” Kallus finally dared to look at Zeb’s eyes, the same green as some of the ferns back in the Yavin IV jungle, shining brighter than normal in the harsh artificial lights. If Kallus wasn’t mistaken – and he wasn’t – Zeb had some tears of his own. “I was wrong.”

* * *

_I wanted to be your Kal._

Was Kallus making that up, too? Zeb just couldn’t be sure. 

He forced his fists to unclench and relaxed his jaw. Getting any more physically stressed wasn’t going to do anyone any good. 

In the cell, Kallus buried his face in his hands. Zeb ached to hold him, to wipe his tears, but he couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

 _Couldn’t_.

He couldn’t comfort a man he didn’t know. 

Zeb took another step back, supporting himself against the far wall. “You were wrong about us?” he asked, just to clarify. “Or wrong about your _mission_?”

Kallus laughed, a messy sobbing snort. “You know, the day this all started, I found out Saw was dead. I would have been free to drop my mission and be who you thought I was, if only Cassian had kept his mouth shut.”

Zeb shook his head, even though Kallus wasn’t looking. “You’d have been found out sooner or later,” he said, though he wasn’t quite sure of that. “Why didn’t you come clean to me? I could have helped you transition out of the Partisans.”

“No,” Kallus said, wiping his face on his sleeve. “You’d have told Hera, who would have told Command, and all this would have happened sooner.”

Deep down, Zeb knew he was right.

“There never was any way out of it for me, unless the Partisans disbanded. It was sheer dumb luck that Jyn Erso recognized me the same day that happened.”

“The Partisans haven’t disbanded,” Zeb said. “That princess from Alderaan, Senator Organa’s daughter, dealt with their remnants just days ago. They helped us find a new base.”

“Wonderful. Now the Alliance has some place to send me,” Kallus said bitterly.

Zeb approached the cell once more. “Kal, do you _want_ to go back to them? If the Council won’t let you stay, do you have somewhere else to go? Family? Other allies?”

“No, no, no, and no,” Kallus said. “I would end up with the Partisans simply because I have no one else to take me in. The only other one who might is Kyrreh, but…”

“But what?”

Kallus looked Zeb in the eyes. “I don’t want him or what he’ll expect of me.”

Zeb closed his eyes, trying not to think about that. “What if I come with you? Wherever they send you?”

Kallus sat up quickly. “Don’t you dare. You have to stay and take care of Hera and the baby. They’re your _family_ , Zeb. I was only ever just a bedwarmer.”

Zeb banged his fist on the wall. “That’s not true!” he said loudly, startling Kallus. “That was never true and you know it.”

“You were, too,” Kallus bit out. “That’s all.”

The words stung, but Kallus’s face told Zeb they were a lie. The redness of his eyes made their amber color stand out and the way Kallus fidgeted with his fingers said he was still genuinely upset.

Unless that was an act, too. Zeb didn’t think so. He thought Kallus had shown his true colors when he said he wanted to stay with Zeb.

“I know what you’re doing and it’s not gonna work,” Zeb said, a little more angrily than he intended. “You can’t push me away, Alexsandr Kallus. _I love you too much_.”

Kallus’s hands curled into fists. “Don’t say that, Zeb. You can’t mean it. Not for me. Not after what I’ve done.”

“I can and I do,” Zeb argued. Resolve washed over him. “I’ll talk to the Council, see what I can do. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“No!” Kallus stood and approached the shield door. “Zeb, they’ll think you colluded with me. You’ll get kicked out too. You and Hera and Rex.”

“Kal, they already cleared us,” Zeb reminded him. “And anyway, you’re in here. You can’t stop me.”

Kallus put his hand on the wall, right next to the shield. Zeb mirrored the gesture, imagining that he could feel the heat of Kallus’s palm through the reinforced durasteel. “I love you, Kal. I love the man you showed me. If you say that’s who you want to be, I want to help you be him,” he said earnestly. “I’m going to do what I can to help you whether you like it or not.”

Staring at Zeb, eyes large and pleading, Kallus whispered, “I love you, too, Zeb.”

It’d been so quiet Zeb almost didn’t hear the words, but he knew what Kallus’s lips looked like when he said them. 

The quiet vulnerability just reinforced Zeb’s decision.

He was going to get Kallus out of that cell one way or another.

Even if it cost him the Rebellion.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, Zeb still hadn’t figured out how to free Kallus. He imagined all sorts of scenarios, from daring break-ins and escapes to Kallus being granted a pardon.

None of them seemed realistic.

At least, not until Hera told him about another Council meeting – one they were invited to.

Zeb tried not to get his hopes up as Kallus was escorted into the room, wrists bound behind him. As he was forced up to the table, he looked at Zeb with wide eyes. Zeb jerked forward a bit, controlling himself at the same moment Hera hissed his name.

“Zeb! Stop!” Hera said quietly but insistently, placing a hand on his back. “You’re not going to help him that way!”

She was right, as usual. Hera was always right.

Mon Mothma looked around the room, eyes resting on Zeb for moment before she spoke. “We’re here today to determine the best course of action for dealing with Alexsandr Kallus. Since we last met, he has been compliant with our requests, answering all our questions. General Draven’s Intelligence agents have independently verified many of his statements.”

She nodded at General Dodonna, who spoke almost regretfully. “Unfortunately, it is clear that we cannot trust him to remain among us. The Partisans are still in existence, even after Saw Gerrera’s death, so he could still pass information on us that might end up in the wrong hands.”

Zeb gulped. There went the best case scenario.

“We’ve been in contact with the remaining Partisans and they won’t accept him back. There’s no telling what they would do to him since he cannot serve them as an undercover operative any more. Sending him back to the Empire would be a death sentence, and most of us refuse to contemplate such a thing,” Dodonna continued.

Mon Mothma spoke again. “This really leaves us with two options: continued imprisonment or banishment.”

Kallus blinked at her pronouncement, but didn’t look surprised.

Zeb fidgeted, tapping claws on his thighs. Neither option was good, but life imprisonment? That was as much a death sentence as the Empire was.

“General Syndulla, Captain Orrelios, do you have any input?” Mon Mothma asked. “Seeing as you were most closely affected by Kallus’s betrayals?”

Hera looked at Zeb, but he couldn’t speak. The words escaped him, staying just out of reach, leaving him staring helplessly at Kallus.

“I think we would prefer to see him gone rather than imprisoned,” Hera said.

Zeb squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Hera was right again. He nodded. “Where would you take him?”

Draven stepped forward. “It’s been decided we would leave Kallus with fresh papers under his birth name and enough credits to last him a week somewhere in the Outer Rim. Where, we are open to suggestion.”

“If I may, Nar Shaddaa,” Kallus said softly. “From there I can disappear and bother neither you nor the Empire any longer.”

Draven shrugged agreeably, but Mon Mothma and Dodonna looked at each other. 

“Are you sure?” Dodonna asked. “There are any number of more palatable planets out there.”

“No,” Kallus shook his head. “Nar Shaddaa will do fine.”

Zeb’s heart clenched. Kallus being dropped alone in the middle of Hutt Space? He was as likely to end up pressed into someone’s service, enslaved, or killed as he was to find a job to support himself.

“Don’t do it,” Hera whispered beside him.

“What?” Zeb asked, already feeling guilty.

“Don’t follow him. You of all people know what could happen on Nar Shaddaa. I don’t want to have to pluck you out of a gladiator’s pit again.”

Zeb watched Kallus, looking for any sign of fear or relief or, well, _anything_. He was disappointed, however. Kallus’s face was set and unreadable.

That was a fresh hurt. Two weeks before, Zeb would have said he knew all of Kallus’s facial expressions like the back of his hand. He would have said that their relationship was strong. He might have even said – in his sappier moments – that they’d been brought together by the Ashla.

Obviously, he’d been wrong.

“Then it’s decided,” Mon Mothma declared. “As soon as we can get your papers drawn up and a shuttle prepared, we’ll take you to Nar Shaddaa.”

Kallus nodded and let himself be led out of the room.

Hera grabbed Zeb’s arm. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I did,” Zeb said, distracted.

Sighing, Hera said, “You’re still going to offer to go, aren’t you?”

Zeb said nothing.

Hera shook her head. “I can’t stop you, Zeb, but I _am_ telling you I have a bad feeling about all this. It’s not going to end well and I don’t want to see you hurt any more.”

“I don’t want that, either,” Zeb said honestly.

But how should he go about it?

* * *

_“Let me come with you_ ,” Zeb had said.

“ _I can’t let you do that,_ ” Kallus had told him. _“You belong on the **Ghost**_.”

“ _Kal, we belong together. You said yourself that you’d been changing. That you wanted to be with me. I’m offering._ ”

“ _Zeb, I said no,_ ” Kallus had snapped. “ _We’re done. Whatever we had was just a cover._ ”

“ _That’s not what you said._ ” 

_“I lied._ ”

The retort had left Zeb looking miserable and Kallus had almost relented.

Almost.

Instead, he turned away and walked onto the shuttle, refusing to look back at Zeb.

Kallus sighed and leaned back into his seat. They’d put binders on him again, but at least these were in the front. Presumably they – the two Rebel commandos they’d sent to deliver him to Nar Shaddaa – would uncuff him before dumping him.

A shapeless bag sat next to him, filled with clothes, a brand new identichip, a comlink, and a handful of credits. Really, it was everything he would need to survive a few days.

What it didn’t contain was a plan for what came next.

Luckily, Kallus had had plenty of time to think about that.

The Partisans didn’t want him. The Alliance didn’t trust him. The Empire wanted to kill him. He didn’t have many options.

If he had more credits, he could buy his own ship and turn smuggler. Possibly be a one-man rebel cell, causing problems for the Empire until he was inevitably caught.

He didn’t have those credits, however.

What he did have was Kyrreh’s comlink frequency.

Mercenary wasn’t very high only Kallus’s list of preferred professions, but it _was_ lucrative, especially in these times of civil war. If Kyrreh would come for him, partner with him…

Well, he’d want to partner in more ways than one. Kallus wasn’t keen on the idea, but he’d do what needed to be done. His situation was certainly desperate enough.

The ship shuddered as it dropped from hyperspace. His commando guards straightened up, watching him intently, as if they expected him to try and hijack the shuttle.

He’d considered it. He could take out the two guards, just as he’d done those stormtroopers on the _Chimaera_ – he wasn’t even reeling from torture as he had been then – but that would completely sever his ties to the Alliance and he didn’t want to burn that bridge any more than he already had.

Zeb was back there. And there was a possibility, no matter how slender, that Zeb would still want him around when all this was through.

Ten minutes later, the shuttle settled down at a spaceport and lowered the ramp. The stench that filled the shuttle told Kallus it was probably the notorious Corellian Sector, not that the rest of Nar Shaddaa smelled much better.

His binders were undone and Kallus picked up his bag.

The guards looked uncomfortable until one blurted out, “Good luck.”

“Don’t get killed right away,” said the other. “Waste of Alliance credits.”

Kallus ignored the snide comment and nodded at the first guard. “I’m nothing if not a survivor,” he said. On that note, he walked off the ship and out into the streets.

He held tight to his bag and set off, trying to orient himself as he went. It’d been years since he’d been to Nar Shaddaa and it had been in an ISB capacity. Not that people had paid him any more deference then; the Empire held no sway in Hutt Space. At the moment, however, he was nothing but a mark for the many criminals and lowlifes of the area.

Kallus found a bar that looked less seedy than the others and settled in at a small table in the back. A battered droid came and took his order and his credits. After his drink was delivered, he was left alone. He set his bag on the table and dug out the comlink. It blinked, showing there was a message, but he ignored that.

Dialing in Kyrreh’s frequency, he prayed the lasat would answer.

“ _Who is this_?” growled a low voice moments later.

“Kyrr, it’s Kallus. I need your help.” No sense beating around the bush.

There was a bit of silence. “ _What do you need? Thought you were with the Rebellion now_.”

“I was. Not anymore.” Kallus didn’t elaborate. “I’m on Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector. Can you come to me?”

A scratchy laugh. “ _You’re lucky I’m on Sakiya or I’d leave your ass there_.”

Kallus slumped a little in relief. Sakiya was also in Hutt Space.

“ _I’ll be there tomorrow. Got business here to finish. Send me your information once you’re settled in_.”

“Th–” Kallus cut himself off. Kyrreh wouldn’t appreciate a thanks like Zeb would. “I’ll see you then.”

The click told him Kyrreh had cut off the transmission without a goodbye; not that Kallus had expected anything else.

He stared at the blinking light, wondering if he should just ignore the message. There was only one person who it could possibly be and did he really want to hear from Zeb?

Yes. He always would.

Thumbing the message button, he held the comm up to his ear so he could hear.

“ _Kal, I don’t think you lied to me about us. I can’t believe it. I’m in the **Phantom** , about an hour behind you. Tell me where to find you or I’ll start in Hutta Town and work my way out from there._”

Karabast, what had Zeb done? He was only a half-decent pilot, he shouldn’t be alone. If he was in the _Phantom_ , did Hera know where he was?

Probably not. She was smart enough to stay away from Hutt Space.

Kriff. Kallus tried to think. If Zeb landed alone, he was a target. He’d been a gladiator before, but he hadn’t been enslaved. If Grakkus the Hutt found out there was a lone lasat wandering around Hutta Town, he’d send his men out to capture him.

Kallus couldn’t have that on his conscience.

He called the _Phantom_. Zeb answered right away. “ _Kal_?”

“You kriffing idiot, turn around right now,” Kallus hissed. “You don’t need to be here. You won’t be safe here.”

“ _And you are_?”

“I’m safer than you. I don’t stand out as much.”

Zeb laughed. “ _You stand out plenty and you know it._ ” A pause. “ _I’m about to drop from hyperspace. Where are you?_ ”

Kallus grimaced. He had to try again. “Zeb, go back. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“ _You’ve already happened to me_ ,” Zeb said. “ _You don’t get to tell me what to do._ ”

With a sigh, Kallus looked around. “I’m at a bar called the Lazy Lekku. You’ll find it a kilometer southeast of the Corellian Sector spaceport.”

“ _Don’t run away,_ ” Zeb said. “ _Or I’ll kill you when I find you._ ”

 _Get in line_ , Kallus thought. “I’ll be here.”

“ _Good. See you soon, Kal._ ”

Kallus stared at the comlink for a moment. “See you, Zeb,” he said, resigning himself to another argument, this one public. 

Kallus grabbed his tote and moved up to the bar. A plump twi’lek, golden-orange in color, came over and leaned against the bar. “Can I get you something?”

Sliding his near-empty glass her way, Kallus nodded, silently asking for a refill. She topped off his lomin-ale.

“Anything else?” She drummed her fingers on the bar, waiting.

“Yes,” he said, sliding a few credits her way. “Know where I can get a bed for the night? Big enough for two, preferably a decent level of clean and safe.”

She laughed. “You’ll pay for it,” she said. “But we’ve got a few rooms for let.”

“That’s not a problem,” Kallus said, adding more credits to the pile. He just had to get Zeb to leave and then he’d go with Kyrreh in the morning. He didn’t need to make his credits stretch _that_ far.

She palmed the credits and handed Kallus a key – an actual mechanical key, not a keycard, to Kallus’s surprise. “Number four.”

He nodded in thanks and she wandered down the bar to the next customer.

Impatient, Kallus watched the door for the next hour, sipping slowly at his drink.

* * *

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

* * *

Nar Shaddaa was not a nice place. In fact, it was probably one of the most unsafe places in the galaxy – but if a being knew how to stay alive, it was a place to find work of both the legitimate and illicit kinds.

And, right now, it was where Zeb was going to find Alexsandr Kallus.

Or whatever his name was.

He made his way to the Lazy Lekku with a singular intensity, praying that Kallus would still be there.

Thank the Ashla, he was.

Kallus barely acknowledged Zeb’s entrance, but he did move a bag so that Zeb could sit next to him.

“Kal,” Zeb said, emotions welling up in him. Deep down, he’d thought Kallus might run, that he’d never see him again.

“Zeb,” Kallus said and Zeb could already hear him gearing up to tell Zeb to go away. 

Ignoring the oncoming lecture, Zeb grabbed Kallus behind the head and kissed him. Kallus fought it for a moment, but relaxed into the kiss and ran his fingers through the fur of Zeb’s arms. Around them, the chatter in the bar continued uninterrupted; Zeb figured that in Hutt Space, being lasat was stranger than an interspecies relationship.

“You need to go back,” Kallus said as soon as they broke. “Right now. Zeb, if something happened to you…”

“Not happening.” Zeb settled back on his stool. “I’m choosing you. Wherever you’re going, so am I.”

Kallus gave him a pitying look. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I know a place we can go,” Zeb said. “Disappear from the galaxy, just be us. Come with me, Kal, please.”

“Hera and the baby?” Kallus asked, sending a pang of guilt through Zeb.

“Probably bloody pissed at me. I stole the _Phantom_.”

“Zeb!” Kallus hissed. “You can’t do that. You _have_ to go back now, if someone hasn’t already made off with the _Phantom_.”

“I locked her up tight,” Zeb said. He knew what Kallus was getting at, he wasn’t naïve, but he _was_ going to throw every argument he could at the situation.

Kallus looked around them and dropped his voice. “It’s not just that. Hutt Space may be unaligned in this war, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t informants. You and I are very conspicuous, but so is the _Phantom_. It’s known.”

“Then let’s find a hotel room.”

Sighing, Kallus flashed a room key. “Already got one. One. For me,” he said, an obvious ploy to drive Zeb off.

It didn’t work.

The room was small and dingy, but it appeared to be relatively clean besides the thin level of grime that seemed to cover everything on Nar Shaddaa.

It also had a large bed.

“You planned on bringing me up here,” Zeb said. “Or was it someone else?”

Kallus set his bag down on the table. “You. Kyrr’s not coming until tomorrow.”

“So what? You wanted to sleep together one last time?” Zeb was hoping for that, to be honest, but he wanted it to be for the right reasons.

Kallus walked over, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “I wanted to have a place to get you off the street. I wasn’t overstating my feelings before. If something happened to you, it would kill me, Zeb.”

“You think I’m less capable than this Kyrreh?” Zeb asked, fur ruffling in irritation.

“No, not as a warrior,” Kallus said. “But Kyrr’s lived on these streets since he was a youth. He’s a familiar sight here. You aren’t. I’m not. He can take care of himself here in ways neither you nor I can.”

Zeb took a step forward. Kallus didn’t back up. “So we stay in the room,” he said. “I could think of worse things.”

* * *

Kallus could think of worse things, as well. In fact, those worse things were almost all he was thinking about, up to and including the idea that Zeb would really insist on coming along. “Zeb, what do you want from me now? You know I lied to you over and over. Why would you chase me halfway across the galaxy?”

“I told you,” Zeb said, stepping forward again. “I love you.”

Kallus put his hands on Zeb’s chest, stopping him from coming any closer. “You love the idea of me. You can’t love the real me.”

“Why?” Zeb asked. “Because you’ve done some bad things? Kal, I love you even knowing what you did as an Imperial; why do the things you did as a Partisan count more?”

That was a half-decent answer, actually. “Because I hid those things from you. Because I betrayed your confidences.”

“Who are you going to tell now? Thought the Partisans didn’t want you?”

“Zeb,” Kallus said, looking at him imploringly. “I don’t want you coming with me. I want you to go back to Hera and the Rebellion, where you belong.”

Zeb narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to turn mercenary with that Kyrreh, right? What makes you think that would scare me off? I’ve worked for money plenty.”

“Zeb…” Kallus said again. “Kyrreh is not just going to let me join him, not unless I benefit him in some way.”

“He’s going to want you to sleep with him,” Zeb said bluntly.

“Yes,” Kallus said.

“And you’re willing to do it. Do you love him?” Zeb’s voice was guarded, like he didn’t want to hear the answer.

Kallus wasn’t sure which answer would hurt worse, but he told the truth anyway. “No, I don’t. I’m not sure I ever did. But I’m going to do whatever it takes to get by. I’ll take the money I earn and buy my own ship sometime.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Zeb said. “I told you, I know a place. Let me take you there and we’ll both disappear.”

“Zeb,” Kallus said again, though his protests were softer. “You don’t want this.”

“What I want is you,” Zeb said. “You _saw_ me. That wasn’t all an act. You made me feel like so much more than just someone to do the heavy lifting. When we’re together, I feel like there’s a chance at life, not just war.”

“Kriff,” Kallus whispered. “I should march you back to the _Phantom_ right now.” 

He didn’t. Instead, he grabbed Zeb’s chest armor and tugged him those last few centimeters and kissed him again.

 _For the last time_ , he told himself. _One night and then we’re done_.

Kallus fumbled at the clasps of Zeb’s armor while Zeb undid Kallus’s belt and holster. Piece by piece, they undressed each other, all the while kissing each other hungrily. Kallus kept uttering little protests about Zeb staying and Zeb kept refusing to leave.

It didn’t slow them down any.

Kallus pushed Zeb down on the bed and started prepping himself. He did his best not to get lost in the sensations, to remember that he didn’t want their last night together to be sweet and slow and loving – he wanted it rougher. He wanted to prepare himself for Kyrreh and he wanted Zeb to realize that Kallus wasn’t the man he thought he knew.

Even if so far, Zeb had seen right through him.

Zeb watched him adoringly, making Kallus re-think this whole thing. Maybe he _could_ go off with Zeb. Maybe he _could_ have a life somewhere.

But that wouldn’t be fair to Zeb, who wanted to claw away at the Empire until it bled to death. It wouldn’t be fair to Hera to take away the last Spectre while she was expecting a baby. It wasn’t fair to that child.

Kallus sunk down onto Zeb and began riding him quickly.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Zeb asked. “This isn’t a race.”

Kallus leaned down so he was face to face with Zeb. “Is this what you want? I’ve always needed it rough to really get off. So, harder. Faster. Come on, Zeb.”

The look of sad confusion that crossed Zeb’s face broke Kallus’s heart. He didn’t fight it when Zeb grabbed him and flipped them over.

“You want it rough?” Zeb asked. “That means what? You want me to use claws–” he ran his claws down Kallus’s stomach, stopping just shy of his cock “– or teeth?”

Kallus gasped as Zeb bared his fangs and made as if to bite his shoulder. They’d talked about marking each other, but Kallus had kept putting it off, although he would proudly carry Zeb’s mark the rest of his life.

“What is it you need from me?” Zeb asked again, right in Kallus’s ear. He softened his voice and his movements. “Because I think that’s an act. I think you’re trying to drive me off again. And I think you love me, too. I think you loved what we had. I don’t think you want to give it up.”

“Zeb!” Kallus gasped as Zeb kissed him, starting at that soft spot behind his ear and working down to Kallus’s collarbone.

“I _do_ think I want to mark you,” Zeb said. “Let Kyrreh know who your heart truly belongs to.”

“Yes, please,” Kallus keened. It would be stupid to show up to Kyrreh’s ship like that, but blast it if he didn’t want Zeb to mark him. Mark him all over so there was no doubt.

Zeb bit into the meat of Kallus’s shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain and pleasure. Kallus trembled as Zeb’s teeth sank in, making the mark deep. It would ache for a very long time, Kallus knew.

The thought made him smile.

Zeb moved them again, pulling Kallus to the end of the bed so Zeb could stand. Kallus used one hand to press down on the bite and staunch the bleeding and the other to touch himself, fingers intertwining with Zeb’s as the lasat did the same thing.

Gripping his shoulder tighter as his climax built, Kallus came, breathing heavily, spilling over his and Zeb’s fingers.

The lasat grunted, moving quicker, pulling gasps from Kallus on each thrust, until he, too, came, filling Kallus wonderfully, both physically and emotionally.

Zeb collapsed on the bed next to Kallus. He touched Kallus’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Kallus answered. “I’m more than okay.”

“Good.” Zeb rolled so he could kiss Kallus again. “Come with me,” he said again.

“I can’t,” Kallus said again. “Zeb, don’t try to argue. Let’s just enjoy this. We only have tonight.”

“We wouldn’t only have–”

Kallus shook his head. “I don’t want to argue over this any more, Zeb. Kyrreh is already coming. I’ll do what I need to do to survive and then, maybe, when this is all over, we can find each other again.” He bit his lip. “Unless you find someone else.”

“Or you do,” Zeb said sadly.

 _I won’t. I never will_ , Kallus thought.

* * *

The sound of cursing woke Zeb. It took him a second to realize the bed was cold next to him and another second to focus well enough to see Kallus at the foot of the bed, digging in his bag for something.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff,” Kallus muttered.

“What’s missing?” Zeb asked, sitting up.

“Kriff!” Kallus said again, looking at Zeb. “I was trying not to wake you up.”

“You were a little loud for that. What’s missing?” Zeb repeated.

“I thought I had more credits than I do. Either Draven told me the wrong amount or I overpaid for this room last night.”

“Do you need more credits?” Zeb asked. He didn’t have many, just enough for fuel and a few meals, but he’d share if Kallus needed them.

“No,” Kallus sighed. “I didn’t want to be beholden to Kyrreh so quickly, but it’ll work out.”

Zeb eyed him warily. “You were going to sneak out without even a goodbye, weren’t you?”

Kallus’s guilty expression was confession enough.

Zeb stood and started getting dressed, taking his time with his armor. “Kal, I don’t appreciate you trying to leave like that. At least consider my offer again.”

“I– I _can’t_ , Zeb,” Kallus pleaded. “Can’t you see that? We don’t belong together, not any more. I screwed that up long before we ever met.”

“I don’t think you did,” Zeb argued.

A loud knock at the door belied any further conversation.

Kallus opened the door and another lasat stepped in, this one taller than Zeb and tan-colored.

At one point, Kyrreh – since that’s who it must be – had been an attractive lasat. Zeb supposed in some ways, he still was, even though he’d obviously been through rough times. His fur was almost the same golden blond as Kallus’s hair, stripes a deep brown. A jagged scar and nicked ear marred what would have otherwise been a handsome face. His armor was expensive and well-cared for and he was laden with weaponry.

Zeb hated him immediately.

Then he noticed the bo-rifle strapped to Kyrreh’s back – black and polished, modified for human hands – and his hatred became total abhorrence.

Kyrreh raised one brow when he saw Zeb. “Captain Orrelios,” he said, voice dripping with disdain. “I was surprised to hear you made it off Lasan, considering how many Guardsmen fell defending the planet.”

Kyrreh’s words tapped into a deep-set guilt and Zeb balled his hands into fists. He should have expected to be recognized; he’d been a public figure on Lasan, albeit reluctantly. He just hadn’t expected to be treated as if he should feel bad for not dying with the planet. “Some of us who were there did manage to survive.”

“Through no fault of your own, I’m sure,” Kyrreh said.

“And I’m sure you were there helping us fight for our planet,” Zeb snapped.

“Stop it,” Kallus said, placing himself between Zeb and Kyrreh. “It doesn’t matter _how_ either of you survived, just that you did.”

Kyrreh glanced toward the rumpled bed. “Did I interrupt a lover’s spat?”

“It’s not like that, Kyrr,” Kallus said. “Zeb was getting ready to leave.”

Zeb saw Kyrreh take a deep breath and grin. “I think it’s exactly like that. Or do you want me to pretend I don’t smell the sex in the air? I knew you liked alien dick, Kallus, but I didn’t know you had a thing for us specifically.”

“ _Kyrr_.”

“There’s blood, too. I smell it and see it on the sheets. Oh, Captain Orrelios, did you mark our Kallus? You thought he was worth it?” Kyrreh chuckled. “Oh well, he’s always got another shoulder if I get bored.”

It was all Zeb could do not to push Kallus aside and go for the mercenary, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he asked, “How’d you end up with that bo-rifle? Last I saw it, it belonged to Kallus.”

Kyrreh smiled. “Gave it to me, didn’t he? ‘Sides, a beauty like that belongs with a lasat.”

“It _belongs_ with someone honorable.”

Kyrreh almost doubled over with laughter. “And _he_ has honor?”

Kallus shook his head, looking at each man in turn. “Kyrr, stop antagonizing Zeb. Zeb, I gave Kyrreh the bo-rifle freely after Bahryn.”

Kyrreh’s eyes – a little more yellow-green than Zeb’s – narrowed as he stared at Zeb.

Way back in Lasan history, males would fight for status. It was a practice Zeb never understood, because the women ran the society from the Queen down to family matriarchs; what did it matter if he was bigger or stronger than another male if they were all going to do what a spiritual leader like Chava said, anyway?

He finally got it. He’d fight Kyrreh for Kallus. If Kallus showed the least bit of reluctance in going with Kyrreh, he’d do it.

Kallus seemed to sense that. “Zeb, I’m going with Kyrreh. You go back to the Rebellion. They need you.”

“I knew you’d always come back to me,” Kyrreh said. “Eventually you’d miss your first, the person who taught you how to please another man. You benefit from that, _Zeb_?”

Zeb forced himself to breathe. He recognized he was jealous of Kyrreh getting to be Kallus’s first – not just first lasat, but _first_. Jealous of Kyrreh teaching him Lasana. Jealous that Kallus wanted to go with this lowlife instead of stay with him.

He thought of the datachip in his belt pouch. It contained the hyperspace map to Lira San. He’d intended to take Kallus with him there.

But what haunted him at the moment was his promise to show any and all other Lasat the way there.

Zeb really wanted to hide Lira San from Kyrreh. He didn’t deserve to know about it.

But was it his place to judge what lasats had earned the right to know they weren’t alone? Maybe Kyrreh would be different if he knew there was a planet he could retire to.

No, it wasn’t his place. Zeb was the better man and he could prove it right there and then.

“Kyrreh, do you have a datapad?” he asked, trying to swallow his bitterness.

Kyrreh nodded. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Zeb pulled out his datachip. “Lira San. It’s real. There is a whole planet of lasat out there and it’s my duty to make sure the Lasan survivors know how to get there. If you’ll let me see your datapad, I’ll give you the route.”

Kyrreh frowned. “Lira San’s a myth.”

“I thought so, too,” Zeb said. “But I’ve been there. I’ve taken other lasat there. And I’m telling you about it, too.”

Kyrreh’s frown deepened, but he handed Zeb a small datapad. Zeb uploaded the map and gave the datapad back. 

There. Zeb had done his duty. He could go back to loathing Kyrreh with every fiber of his being.

Kyrreh looked at the datapad. “You were serious?”

“Zeb, you never told me any of that,” Kallus said, sounding a little surprised.

Zeb shrugged. “I was trying to protect the refugees. Only the Spectres knew. It was safer that way.”

“Good decision,” Kyrreh said. “Now that you know what he was really doing.”

“Perhaps,” Zeb said. “But maybe the Partisans would have found other survivors, too. I won’t ever know.”

Kyrreh didn’t seem to have a smart remark for that. He looked at Kallus and said, “I’m on a schedule. If you’re coming with me, come on. Otherwise, you’re on your own for good.”

Conspicuously avoiding Zeb’s eyes, Kallus stepped out from between the two lasat and grabbed his bag off the bed, slinging it across his shoulder.

He stopped at the door and looked back. “Goodbye, Zeb. Be safe.”

“You too, Kal.”

A short nod and then Kallus was gone.

Zeb sat down on the bed, head swimming. He’d really thought he could get Kallus to go with him. He’d thought he would be the better alternative.

But he hadn’t been. Kallus didn’t want him any more.

Zeb waited a good hour to be sure he wouldn’t run into Kyrreh and Kallus at the spaceport and then made his way to the _Phantom_. Overnight, someone had painted it, a colorful tag like Sabine would leave, but with none of her nuance.

Zeb sat at the helm, fingers floating over the controls. He ought to return to Hera. He ought to take the _Phantom_ back.

Instead he took out his datachip and inserted it into the navicomputer. 

It was time to go home.

* * *

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

Six months after leaving Zeb behind, Kallus found himself finally settling into life as a mercenary. It was dangerous, fraught with peril, but he excelled in situations like that.

Before he set foot on Kyrreh’s ship, Kallus fashioned himself a mask to disguise his features and let his beard grow in full over the next weeks. Just because Kyrreh and his crew were allies didn’t mean they wouldn’t sell him to the Empire for the reward credits.

Credits were the driving force behind everything the little mercenary force did. Kallus found himself fighting in Outer Rim skirmishes, fighting soldiers of bloated, affluent Hutts for other bloated, affluent Hutts. Kyrreh followed the credits, fighting for any employer who could outbid the others.

It was the sort of life Kallus had expected: morally unsatisfying but flush with credits. He and the others all paid Kyrreh a percentage for room and board, but Kallus stashed away the rest in hopes of purchasing his own ship. After six months of scrimping and saving, Kallus could just about afford a small used shuttle.

It would be enough for what he wanted to do.

From the first day on Kyrreh’s ship, Kyrreh had staked a claim on Kallus among his crew – or at least, he pretended to. He made lewd comments about human lovers, touched Kallus in front of the others, and made Kallus share his cabin and bed. Strangely, though, in private he never touched Kallus or asked Kallus to do anything but sleep in his bed.

Kallus wondered if it had anything to do with the smooth, raised scar on his shoulder. If Kyrreh was respecting Zeb’s mark, even though Zeb wasn’t anywhere around.

It was a bit baffling, really.

Kallus didn’t question it out loud, however, choosing to be quietly grateful he only had to put up with Kyrreh’s posturing.

He lay in bed with Kyrreh after one campaign ended, still a little drunk from the crew’s celebrations. In the dark, he could almost believe Zeb was sleeping next to him.

Usually, that thought only hurt when he had to set himself straight, but that night Kallus held on to it hopefully.

Carefully, so as not to wake Kyrreh, he slipped out of bed, sneaking to the cockpit.

The ship sat in dock on Nal Hutta, where they awaited their next assignment. Even at midnight, the streets outside the spaceport were bustling and loud.

It reminded Kallus of the lower levels of Coruscant he’d visited while establishing his identity for the Imperial Academy.

He’d been absolutely miserable then and he was absolutely miserable now. 

Checking that the door was sealed securely, Kallus typed in the code for the holocomm. He dialed in a familiar frequency.

A few minutes later, Hera appeared, looking hugely pregnant and utterly annoyed. “This better be good, I’m in the middle of–” Her eyes widened. “Kallus?”

“I’m sorry to be a problem,” he said.

“ _More_ of a problem, you mean.” Hera crossed her arms.

Kallus couldn’t argue that. “Is Zeb there? Will he talk with me?”

Hera stood there, her figure flickering bright blue in the dark cockpit. She sighed. “Zeb never came back. I thought he was with you.”

Kallus’s heart clenched. Had something happened to Zeb after he left? “No,” he said. “He found me on Nar Shaddaa, but we parted ways the next day. I thought he was going to you. I told him to.”

Hera snorted. “And when has Garazeb Orrelios ever done what he doesn’t want to do?”

“True.” Kallus thought quickly. “If he’s not with me and he’s not with you…”

“If he’s anywhere, he’ll be–” Hera broke off.

“On Lira San,” Kallus finished.

“He told you?”

“He told another lasat of my acquaintance. Gave him the coordinates while I was present.”

Hera relaxed her posture, one hand resting on her belly. “If you want him, you’ll have to try there. Comms won’t reach there, though. You’d have to go in person.” She frowned. “I’m not coming to get you and ferry you there.”

Kallus’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. “I wouldn’t ask you to,” he said. “You look like you have your hands full.”

“I will soon,” Hera agreed. “Kallus… if you can get Zeb to come back…”

“I will,” Kallus said. “I’d come back if I could. I’m surviving out here, but I’d rather be making a difference.”

“Get Zeb back here and we’ll talk arrangements,” Hera said.

Kallus laughed softly. “You sound like we’re divorced parents deciding visitation rights.”

“Aren’t we?” Hera asked. “You’ve split Zeb’s loyalties and I think he ran when he couldn’t reconcile them.”

Kallus’s smile disappeared. “I’m sorry I took him from you. I promise I tried to get him to return to you.”

Hera nodded, looking away for a moment. “I have to go, Kallus. Good luck finding Zeb.”

“Thank you, Hera. Good luck to you, too.”

Hera’s figure flickered out.

 _Lira San_. Kyrreh still had the coordinates on his datapad, but had he transferred to the ship’s navicomputer? Kallus walked to the wall of controls and searched through the saved destinations.

There, an unlabeled location off in the Unknown Regions. That had to be Lira San. Kallus quickly downloaded the coordinates and route to a spare datachip. Pocketing the datachip, he practically vibrated as he thought of what to do.

The wise thing would be to wait until daytime. Nal Hutta was safer and it would be easier to pack up his things if Kyrreh was away looking for business.

But on Nal Hutta, nothing ever truly closed. Even at this time of night, he could find a cheap shuttle just sturdy enough to get him to Lira San.

Kallus decided to risk it.

He opened the cockpit door to head back to the crew cabins but stopped short.

Kyrreh stood there, arms crossed, looking quite unhappy. “What were you doing?” he asked.

“Just needed some time to myself,” Kallus lied easily.

Kyrreh snarled. “Tell the truth, Kallus. I heard you anyway. You’re leaving.”

Kallus nodded. “I’m leaving, whether you want me to or not.”

Reaching out, Kyrreh placed his hand on Kallus’s shoulder, right over Zeb’s mark. “I knew you wouldn’t stay.”

Kallus rocked back, surprised. That sounded almost accepting. “You did?”

“You’re good, Kallus, but you don’t have the heart for this sort of work any more. It’s only a matter of time before you get one of us killed because you can’t make the hard decision.” Kyrreh squeezed Kallus’s shoulder. “You belong with him.”

“I didn’t think you’d let me go,” Kallus said.

“Oh, believe me,” Kyrreh said. “If he hadn’t claimed you, I would have. But there’s some things from Lasan that even I still respect, no matter what you think of me.”

“I’m going now,” Kallus said, testing the new waters.

“I’m not stopping you.” Kyrreh even stepped aside.

Waiting for the other shoe to fall, Kallus slipped by and went back to their shared cabin. He packed his things quickly and found Kyrreh standing in the door, watching him. The lasat bent down and picked up the bo-rifle, handing it back to Kallus.

“You’re really not stopping me?” Kallus asked, shocked by the generosity.

“I’m not going to help you,” Kyrreh said. “But if you want to leave, you’re a free man.”

“I’m going, then.” Kallus started toward the ship’s ramp before turning back momentarily. “Thank you for taking me in,” he said.

Kyrreh nodded. “I’m not coming for you again, so pick your loyalties carefully from here on out.”

Kallus returned the nod and set off into the Nal Hutta night.

Not far from the spaceport was a shipyard. He almost got mugged twice on the way, but flashing his own superior weaponry made his would-be attackers back off. 

He negotiated fiercely and managed to get a beat-up old Appazanna gunship barely big enough for two. It had a hyperdrive, though, and that’s what Kallus needed.

Kallus plugged his datachip into the navicomputer and set off, glad to put Hutt Space and mercenary work behind him.

He dropped out of space right before the trickiest portion of the trip and looked out in awe.

A gigantic collapsing star cluster.

A _familiar_ gigantic collapsing star cluster. He’d chased the _Ghost_ into it back when he was still ISB.

Kallus shook his head. Of _course_ this was the route to Lira San; he’d been chasing the _Ghost_ because they had the two lasat who’d escaped Imperial capture. It made perfect sense.

On the other side of that star cluster was a planet full of lasat. 

On the other side of that star cluster was Zeb.

And Kallus was going to find him.

* * *

Zeb wandered through the market, inspecting the foodstuffs at each stall, but he was barely aware of when credits changed hands or what he put in his basket. It was a rote activity after six months of living on Lira San.

Life there wasn’t what he’d thought it’d be. Deep in his heart, he’d expected Lasan reborn, but while he was surrounded by other lasat, they weren’t Lasan lasat.

They were Lira San lasat, whose Lira Sana was nearly a different language that Zeb still struggled with, whose holidays were different, whose customs were foreign. Zeb hadn’t felt so alone since Lasan fell.

He was making an effort, mostly due to Chava’s insistence that he learn the new ways. He was the Child of Lasan, she reminded him, chosen by the Ashla to lead the way to Lira San. To her, it was obvious the Child had a place on Lira San.

Zeb wasn’t so sure. He’d been thinking of going back to Hera. She had to be close to giving birth, if she hadn’t already; surely she would want his help. If not his help, she’d at least want the _Phantom_ back.

He sighed, purchased some fish filets that would freeze well and headed back toward his little bungalow on the edge of town.

The town was a small hamlet near the capital, surrounded by tall ch’hala trees that changed color in the winds and rains that blew through frequently.

It was a nice place, objectively. So was his bungalow; the royal family had built a whole neighborhood just for the Lasan refugees. That had sounded wonderful when he first arrived, but now all it meant was proximity to Chava and her constant desire to teach him various lessons and histories. 

Zeb’s little bungalow was still big enough to feel empty every night, especially after years of living in a cramped cabin on the _Ghost_. After sharing that cabin with Ezra first and then Kallus.

 _Kallus_. Zeb tried not to think of him, but it was impossible during the long nights when he was all alone. 

Was Kallus happy with Kyrreh? Had Kyrreh marked Kallus, too? Did Kallus know what sort of betrayal that was? Was he even still alive? Mercenary work was dangerous, after all.

Lost in his head, Zeb made it home and unpacked his groceries. He glanced at his bo-rifle, leaning against the wall by the fireplace. He hadn’t used it in the past six months. He was probably rusty; he should practice with it sometime.

The problem was that every time he picked it up, he remembered fighting Kallus – the only opponent he’d faced with a bo-rifle since leaving Lasan – and that sapped all his desire to go through the Guard exercises.

Zeb recognized that he wasn’t in a healthy state of mind, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. It took all of his mental fortitude to deal with Chava most mornings and market trips in the afternoons, not to mention cooking in the evening.

He curled up on the sofa and turned on a holovid for background noise.

Zeb was almost asleep when the knock came.

With a groan, he sat up. “Chava, go away!” he called. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The knock came again, more insistent.

Grumbling, Zeb slammed the door controls and stood there in shock.

A human stood there, a large bag in one hand.

It took a second for Zeb to register that it was Kallus with a full beard.

“K– Kal?” he asked, just in case he was hallucinating.

“Zeb,” the human answered. 

“Kal,” Zeb repeated, still in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

Kallus flushed, looking sheepish. “I– when Hera said you hadn’t gone back to the Rebellion, I thought you’d come here.”

“You came to find me?” _Of course he did_ , Zeb chastised himself. Who came to Lira San without purpose?

“I couldn’t stay with Kyrreh,” Kallus said, “and I understand if you want me to leave too, but I thought I’d try–”

Zeb winced at Kyrreh’s name. “How did you find me?” he asked, trying to focus on the matter at hand: Kallus.

“I stole the route from Kyrreh,” Kallus said. “I made enough to purchase a small ship. I’m not sure if it’ll make it back through the star cluster, but it got me here. Took about thirty hours, but I made it. Once I was here, people heard my atrocious Lasana and directed me straight to this neighborhood.”

It suddenly occurred to Zeb he was being rude. “Come in,” he said, as much to be polite as to get Kallus out of the sight of prying neighbors.

Kallus stepped inside, looking around. Zeb felt self-conscious. He hadn’t really personalized anything in the six months he’d been there and now the place felt far too bare.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Kallus spoke. “Zeb, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gone with you when you asked. Stars, I should have told you about the Partisans as soon as we landed on Yavin and maybe we’d still be there together. Even though it was never my intention, I was cruel to you.”

“Kal, it’s okay,” Zeb said. He wasn’t sure if it was or not, but it felt like the right thing to say.

“No, it’s not,” Kallus said firmly. “You know it’s not. I made the wrong choice. I make the wrong choice a lot, actually. You gave me direction, kept me on the right path.”

Zeb didn’t know what to say.

Kallus nodded. “If you don’t want me here, say the word and I’ll leave you alone forever. But if you do…”

“I do,” Zeb said softly. “Karabast, Kal, I’ve wanted you here the whole kriffing time. Do you know how lonely it’s been?”

“If you were half as miserable as I was,” Kallus said, “then I am supremely sorry.”

Zeb couldn’t help but imagine what Kallus had been doing while away. He didn’t want to think of it, but the thoughts of Kallus and Kyrreh that had plagued him for months surfaced, particularly when Zeb got a whiff of another lasat’s scent every time Kallus moved. “Kyrreh let you go?”

“Easily. I was a little surprised.”

“Did you–” Zeb cut himself off before he asked something rude and invasive.

Kallus didn’t let him get away with it, though. “Did I what?”

Zeb sighed. “I can smell him on you. Did he make you– or did you want to?”

Kallus’s eyes widened and he pulled his shirt down far enough to show Zeb’s mark, smooth and pink. “Zeb, no! We shared a bed at his insistence, but he didn’t touch me. He said there were some things from Lasan he still respected.”

If he’d really respected Zeb’s mark, Kyrreh wouldn’t have even slept next to Kallus, Zeb thought. But he could dwell on that or he could decide to focus on the fact that Kallus had _finally_ chosen him.

Looking around the bungalow, Kallus said, “Let me take a shower, get his scent off me.”

It was a kind gesture on Kallus’s part and Zeb was inclined to let him, but first, he held his hands out for Kallus.

Kallus took them gingerly and Zeb drew him close, into a hug. “Karabast,” he swore softly. “I’ve missed you, Kal. I’ve _needed_ you.”

Kallus nuzzled into his neck. “And all I’ve done is let you down. I’m sorry I’m not who I said I was, but I want to be the man you thought I could be. If you allow me to try.”

Zeb nodded and kissed the side of Kallus’s head. His hair was messy, shaggy and oily, but Zeb didn’t care. He was holding the man he loved in his arms once again, something he thought he’d never get to do.

Kallus pulled away. “The ‘fresher?”

Reluctantly, Zeb let go of Kallus to point the way.

Kallus pulled some fresh clothes from his bag and disappeared into the refresher. 

Zeb sat back down on his sofa, stunned. He was thrilled Kallus was back, but he didn’t know what to do. Should they try to go back to the Rebellion? Would they be welcomed back at all? He still felt guilty for keeping the _Phantom_ , so he ought to return it.

He looked at the small holocomm unit on the table. He’d been trying to figure out how to boost it to get through the star cluster, but either he’d been failing or Hera wasn’t answering.

Just in case, he tried it one more time.

As soon as he flipped the switch to turn it on, the message light blinked. 

Zeb pushed the playback button hesitantly. Text ran across the screen instead of an image.

> _Four_ –
> 
> _Managed to barely lock onto this signal, hope it’s you. Won’t say where we are; you know why._
> 
> _Seven made his appearance this morning. Jacen. Thought you’d like to know. We may come visit for a bit._
> 
> _Speaking of, Fulcrum contacted me right before everything started. Said he knew the way there. Hope he was right and he’s found you._
> 
> _Take care and I want my shuttle back._
> 
> – _Two_

Zeb couldn’t help but smile at the message, both at the news about the kit and Hera’s note about the _Phantom_.

He tapped out a quick response – _Yes, please come. Yes, you can have your shuttle back. Yes, Fulcrum is here_ – and sent it, hoping _his_ text made it through as well.

The sound of water in the shower stopped and Zeb watched the refresher door, unsure what to do. It’d take Kallus a few minutes to dry and dress, so standing and waiting seemed awkward, but so did sitting.

 _Food_. Kallus had said he’d been on the move for thirty hours. Who knew if he’d eaten in that time?

Zeb busied himself in the kitchen, putting out a few snack foods while he studied his cooler for something appropriate to cook.

His ears twitched when the refresher door opened, quickly getting his attention instead.

Kallus stood there in a loose, belted tunic and fitted pants: the very sort of outfit that had been typical on Lasan.

He flushed when he saw Zeb staring. 

“Do you know–?” Zeb started.

Kallus nodded. “I thought of you when I bought new clothes,” he said. “Kyrreh thought it was for him, but it was always you I thought of.”

Zeb swallowed, holding back his desire to run and kiss Kallus then and there. “Uh, there’s food if you want it.”

“Not right now.” Without breaking eye contact, Kallus walked right by the table and up to Zeb. “Stop me if you don’t want this as much as I do,” he said before pulling Zeb down into a kiss.

Zeb didn’t protest, squeezing his eyes shut and wrapping his hands around Kallus’s waist. He’d wanted this so badly, he didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.

“Kal,” he whispered when they broke. “Don’t leave me like that ever again.”

Kallus ran thin fingers through Zeb’s beard. “I won’t,” he promised. “I love you, Zeb.”

All Zeb could do was nod and rest his face against Kallus’s forehead. The human smelled of Zeb’s soap, fresh and clean, but that’s not what Zeb wanted him to smell like.

Kallus caught on to what he was doing as soon as Zeb rubbed their cheeks together and tilted his head so Zeb could scent his neck as well. Taking his time placing little kisses down Zeb’s neck to his collarbone, Kallus murmured apologies as he went.

Zeb moaned, the attention sending shivers down his back – and more importantly, to other parts of his body. “D– d’you want to take this to the bedroom?” he stuttered.

“I was hoping for that,” Kallus said.

Zeb swallowed and grabbed Kallus’s wandering hand. “This way.”

His bedroom wasn’t much, just a large bed pit in the floor lined with pillows – the modern equivalent of nests in the trees. Zeb watched Kallus evaluate the room – it was simple but still very different from their shared cabin on the _Ghost_. 

Luckily, Kallus didn’t seem fazed. He undid Zeb’s pants and tugged at his shirt until Zeb took over, stripping down and watching appreciatively as Kallus did the same.

Kallus’s time as a mercenary had him looking like an Imperial again – lean and muscular, with little-to-no padding. Zeb wondered if that was from work or lack of food or a combination of both. Lightly tracing muscles with a claw, Zeb led Kallus into the bed pit, helping the human lay down next to him. 

Zeb started to prop himself up to lean over Kallus, but the human stopped him.

“No, Zeb. You’ve taken care of me the last few times. It’s my turn again.”

A little surprised, but not displeased, Zeb lay back on the bed.

Kallus took his time preparing Zeb, using those nimble human fingers to bring Zeb close to the edge over and over again before finally pressing his cock into Zeb.

Zeb made a happy noise and pressed his head back into the bed, ears back in pleasure. He reached up and ran his thumb over his mark. “I’m glad it’s still there,” he said.

“So am I,” said Kallus, between thrusts. “I owe you one.”

Zeb’s eyes widened and he gripped the mattress tight as Kallus moved – slow and gentle, peppering Zeb with kisses as he went – “You want to mark me?”

Kallus paused. “If you want me to,” he said hesitantly.

Zeb nodded, a little desperate. “Yes. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

With a relieved smile, Kallus moved again, pulling almost all the way out before pressing back in. “Tell me when,” he said.

It took a while, even with Kallus’s earlier teasing; it felt like they were making love, not just having sex, and Zeb teared up from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

When Zeb felt the sensations building, growing and feeling inevitable, he nodded to Kallus, who bit down on Zeb’s neck, fur and all.

Zeb cried out, the bit of pain sending him over the edge, trembling as Kallus moved from his shoulder to his mouth for a messy, slightly bloody kiss.

A few more erratic thrusts and Kallus spilled inside Zeb, another feeling that made Zeb moan happily.

Kallus collapsed on top of Zeb, resting his head on the shoulder he hadn’t marked. He idly ran his fingers through Zeb’s fur. “Kriff, I missed you,” he said.

Zeb wrapped his arms around Kallus. “That one’s all on you, love,” he said.

“I know,” Kallus said ruefully.

“You know what happens now?” Zeb asked.

“We clean up?” Kallus guessed.

“You unpack your things and _stay_ ,” Zeb corrected.

Kallus smiled a little. “I would love to.”

Zeb nodded, feeling himself tear up a little again. There was more to be said, more to be asked, more of Kallus’s past to be relearned, but all that could wait. The important part was that for the moment, they were together and they were happy.

Kallus kissed his chest. “You look like you’re about to cry. Are you okay?”

“I am now,” Zeb promised.

And he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr ([hixystix](https://hixystix.tumblr.com/) & [x-wing-junkie](https://x-wing-junkie.tumblr.com/)) or twitter ([@fandomhixystix](https://twitter.com/fandomhixystix)) and flail over Rebels and Kalluzeb! New friends always welcome!


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